


Le Réveil

by PhaedrusOfAthens



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Fluff, Hair-pulling, Historical Lams, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Might turn into smut, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 03:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12290307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhaedrusOfAthens/pseuds/PhaedrusOfAthens
Summary: Alexander hates to admit how Laurens affects him.





	Le Réveil

I played with John’s hair while he slept peacefully beside me. Twirling the long, sandy strands in my fingers, I imagined his fingers weaving their way through my hair; brushing my scalp so slightly. I hated that I loved it so much. That it was so easy for John to  _ subdue  _ me, in a way. I decided I had waited long enough for him to wake up.

 

“Jack,” I whispered, reaching my hand not currently occupied with his hair beneath the blanket and poking him in the thigh. I waited. Nothing. “John,” I said again, this time a little louder. 

 

“Hmmph,” he groaned and opened his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he hoarsely whispered through a smile, “Good morning.” Seeing that we still had yet plenty of time before our day would start he added, “You couldn’t just wait for me to wake up on my own?”

 

I scoffed. “I  _ did _ wait.”

 

“How long?” he chuckled. “An entire minute?”

 

Rolling my eyes, I made it as obvious as possible that I didn’t find his question amusing - even if it was oddly accurate. He smirked back and took hold of my hand that had been twirling his hair. 

 

“So it’s fine when  _ you _ play with  _ my  _ hair, but when I play with yours, you get…” he paused, “irritable.” 

 

“That’s different,” I said shortly. Perhaps a bit more tersely than I meant to. 

 

“Hmm,” he hummed and reached his hand to my hair before I could move away. In a panic over accidentally showing that I might like it, I jolted back and accidentally hit my head on the wall behind me with an audible  _ thunk _ . Laurens tried to stifle a small laugh and reached his hand once again to the back of my head, pulling me close to kiss me on my forehead. “Are you hurt?” he asked, while rubbing the back of my head. 

 

“Fuck. No, no,” I winced. “I’m fine.”

 

Laurens let a self-satisfied grin break out on his face. “Mhm, I believe you.” Rising to rest on his elbow, he moved his hand from the back of my head and began running his fingers through my hair, so excruciatingly slowly. Over and over. Damn him.

 

I didn’t realize I had closed my eyes from the comfort of his actions until I heard Laurens whisper in my ear, “You know what I think?”

 

My eyes shot open. Damn him, again.

 

“I think you secretly like it,” he teased in a low voice. 

 

I groaned, angry at myself for letting him know my weakness. Angry at myself for being so weak. 

 

“You can try to deny it all you want,” he continued. “But I know you, Alexander Hamilton.”

 

He was right. He did know me better than anyone. I scoffed at his remarks anyway. 

 

“Oh, no?” he asked innocently. “I can just stop, if you want,” and slowly removed his hand from my hair. 

 

“No!” I said too quickly. Much too quickly for my liking, in fact. 

 

That smirk again. “No?” he asked innocently. “No, what?” He made no move to return his hand. 

 

I shifted uncomfortably beneath the blankets trying to avoid his stare. “Laurens…” I begged, hoping to shift his attention. Hoping that I wouldn’t have to answer his pointed question. 

 

“Oh, begging now, are we?” he whispered. “Sweet boy.” He moved his hand to my cheek and softly stroked his thumb across it. “Now,” he continued, “what were you saying ‘no’ to?”

 

“Nothing,” I said softly, trailing off; wishing he would let the subject drop. He, of course, did not. 

 

“Ah, ah,” he chided. “Tell me.”

 

I groaned and put my face in the pillow to muffle what I was about to admit to. “No, don’t stop,” I said as quickly as possible. 

 

“Don’t stop what?” Laurens pressed further. Annoyingly persistent as always. 

 

I let out an exasperated groan into the pillow. When Laurens neither responded nor continued petting my hair, I knew that answer would not suffice. “Don’t stop…” I paused trying to work out the least embarrassing way to say this. “… with the hair,” I quickly added at the end. I didn’t need to look; I could feel him smirking at me. 

 

“This?” he asked, finally returning his hand to my hair. My eyes fluttered shut as his hand moved from my forehead back, over and over. Relaxing into his touch, the familiar stroking suddenly changed when he tugged gently at the hair on the back of my head. Unbidden, I let out a humiliatingly soft moan. Fuck.

 

“It’s too easy sometimes,” Laurens whispered in my ear. I shuddered at his soft words as his hand trailed down my neck to my chest. Pulling me in for a kiss, another moan escaped my lips.  _ Why _ ,  _ again _ ? He laughed softly into our kiss. 

 

“Laurens…” I tried again. “You make me lose all sense of propriety.” 

 

“You’re fine,” John replied softly. “Blushing is always allowed.”

 

“No one is blushing,” I replied as convincingly as possible. “And it takes more than that to make me blush.”

 

“No need to say it,” he said softly. “I know you love blushing,” he paused and lowered his voice, “...being teased.”

 

I bit my lip to hold back a groan. “I don’t,” I finally said. It was too late, the grin on Laurens’ face was enough to tell me that he was not fooled by my little lie. Before realizing what I had done, I furrowed my brow and stuck my bottom lip out. 

 

“Cute,” he said and brushed his thumb along my bottom lip. “You know that doesn’t work on me.”

 

“Then what does?” I asked through frustration. “Nothing seems to work on you.”

 

“You could just say ‘stop’,” he joked.

 

I paused and averted his gaze. “But I don’t want you to stop,” I whispered as quietly as possible.

 

“How  _ very _ interesting,” he teased. I groaned into the pillow. “Since it’s time to start our day,” he continued, despite my flustered state, “we’ll just have to continue this later.”

 

I did my best to look irritated as he rose from bed, to look as if he could not possibly know me so well, but he was right, of course. As he always seemed to be.  

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 since they ran out of time? Not sure.


End file.
